HYMN 110. C. M.


FOR me, O Lord, whatever lot

The hours commissioned bring;
If all my withering blessings die,
Or fairer clusters spring;

2 Oh! grant that still with grateful heart,
My years resigned may run;
'Tis thine to give, or to resume;
And may thy will be done.

HYMN 111. C. M.

The Canaan of Rest.

THERE is a land of pure delight,
Where saints immortal reign;
Infinite day excludes the night,

And pleasures banish pain.

2 There everlasting spring abides, And never-withering flowers: Death, like a narrow sea, divides

This heavenly land from ours.

3 Sweet fields, beyond the swelling flood, Stand dressed in living green;

So to the Jews old Canaan stood,

While Jordan rolled between.

4 But timorous mortals start and shrink, To cross this narrow sea,

And linger, shivering, on the brink,
And fear to launch away.


5 O could we make our doubts remove-
Those gloomy doubts that rise-
And see the Canaan that we love,
With unbeclouded eyes!

6 Could we but climb were Moses stood, And view the landscape o'er,

Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood, Should fright us from the shore.

HYMN 112. L. M.

Confidence in God.

WHEN in the hours of lonely wo,

I give my sorrows leave to flow; And anxious fear and dark distrust Weigh down my spirit in the dust;

2 When not e'en friendship's gentle aid
Can heal the wounds the world has made,
Oh, this shall check each rising sigh,
My heavenly Father still is nigh.

3 His counsels and upholding care,
My safety and my comfort are;
And he shall guide me all my days,
Till glory crown the work of grace.
4 Father, in whom but thee above
Can I repose my trust, my love?
Nor shall an earthly object be
Loved in comparison with thee.

5 My flesh is hastening to decay,
Soon shall the world have passed away;
And what can mortal friends avail,

When heart and strength and life shall fail.

6 But, O, be thou my Father, nigh,
And I will triumph while I die;
My strength, my portion is divine,
And Father, thou art ever mine.

HYMN 113. L. P. M. 67.

Divine Omnipresence.

ABOVE-below-where'er I gaze,

Thy guiding finger, Lord, I view,
Traced in the midnight planet's blaze,
Or glistening in the morning dew;
Whate'er is beautiful or far,
Is but thine own reflection there.

2 I hear thee in the stormy wind,

That turns the ocean-wave to foam; Nor less thy wondrous power I find,

When summer airs around me roam; The tempest and the calm declare Thyself for thou art everywhere.

3 When yonder radiant orb of light,
Hath tipped the mountain-tops with gold,
Smote with the blaze my weary sight

Shrinks from the wonders I behold:
That ray of glory bright and fair,
Is but thy living shadow there.

4 Thine is the silent noon of night,

The twilight eve-the dewy morn; Whate'er is beautiful and bright,

Thine hands have fashioned to adorn ;
Thy glory walks in every sphere,
And all things whisper, "God is here!"


HYMN 114. L. M. 87.


FAIR charity, who from above,

Camest down to dwell a pilgrim here,
Thy voice is praise, thy smile is love,
And pity's soul is in thy tear!
When on the shrine of God were laid,

First-fruits of all most good and fair, That ever grew in Eden's shade,

Thine was the holiest offering there!

2 Hope and her sister, Faith, were given
But as our guides to yonder sky;
Soon as they reach the verge of heaven,
Lost in that blaze of bliss, they die.
But long as Love, Almighty Love,

Shall on his throne of thrones abide
Thou shalt, oh! Charity, dwell above,
Smiling for ever by his side.

HYMN 115. S. M.

The Gospel.

BEHOLD the sun, how bright

From yonder east he springs, As if the soul of life and light, Were breathing from his wings.

2 So bright the gospel broke
Upon the souls of men ;

So fresh the dreaming world awoke
In truth's full radiance there.


3 Before yon sun arose,

Stars clustered through the skyBut O, how dim, how pale were those, To his one burning eye!

4 So truth lent many a ray,
To bless the Pagan's night-
But, Lord, how weak, how cold were they
To thy one glorious light!


HYMN 116. 11s M.

Heavenly Rest.


WOULD not live alway, I ask not to stay, Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way; I would not live alway-no, welcome the tomb, Since Jesus hath lain there, I dread not its gloom.

2 Who, who would live alway, away from his God,
Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode!
Where the rivers of pleasure, flow o'er the bright
And the noontide of glory eternally reigns; [plains,

3 Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet; While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, And the smile of the Lord is the life of the soul.

HYMN 117. C. P. M. 67.


BEGIN, my soul, the exalted lay,

Let each enraptured thought obey,
And praise the Almighty's name,
Let heaven and earth, and seas and skies,
In one melodious concert rise,

To swell the inspiring theme.

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